Three Wishes
by Axolotlabulous
Summary: Based off Aladdin: Yugi is a thief with dreams of living in riches. He unwittingly meets the Pharaoh and falls head over heels in love him. Caught up in an evil plot, can Yugi, with the help of a cynical genie, win the King's love and save Egypt? AtemYugi
1. I Prologue

_**Important Author's Note! Please for the love of god read this so you won't be offended in later chapters!**_

Okay, people. This is my endeavor in actually completing a chapter story. :D I actually have five chapters of this written out so far, so bear with me. This is based off of Disney's _Aladdin_. Only it's Ancient Egypt and I'm pretty sure by making Yugi Aladdin I just made Atem Jasmine. xD The main pairings are Blindshipping and Bronzeshipping. I'm still too scared to write a lemon so I think that this story will remain at the T rating.

**_READTHISREADTHISREADTHIS---_** However, there will be twincest (between Marik and Malik, 'cause I couldn't think of a logical explanation of them looking so alike. And hey, people back then didn't know about genetics. Incest was the norm back then people. _DEAL WITH IT.)_ If you can't handle that, then skip over the parts that have them. Or just turn back. (They're a main pairing, and since I love Malik so much they will be main roles right next to Atem and Yugi).

This chapter is mainly a prologue. Nothing really important happens.

Without further ado, I present to you Yugi as Aladdin. Enjoy. x3

_**Disclaimer**_**: **Yu-gi-oh seems to rule my life right now. Too bad I can't, and never will, rule it.

* * *

There was a time long ago—oh, say, about three thousand years or so—when a considerable amount of the world was still wild, and overrun with barbarians and outlaws whose knowledge and skills hadn't even reached the point of attempting to plant seeds yet, let alone farm decent crops. This was an ancient age, when the lands to the West were still a mystery, and Hebrews and followers of Judaism were still a small cult following wandering the deserts of Assyria. The seeds of civilization in the part of the world we now know as Greece were just beginning to sprout in the form of small, sovereign states.

In this world of old, when the oceans were a little bit deeper, mountains a little bit higher, and age determined by how many floods a man had seen, from the banks of an endless river rises a great nation.

It is nearing the end of a golden age for the Upper and Lower Kingdoms of Egypt and its Empire. The New Kingdom, it will be called in the future, but to the Egyptians, it was an age of progress, of an empire, of great Kings, the living sons of Horus: Ramses the Great, the She-King Hatshepsut, Tutankhamen. And now that the kind and just ruler, Pharaoh Akunumkanon, has passed to the other side of the Nile and into the afterlife, Re begins anew and dawns on the rule of his son, the boy-Pharaoh Atem.

This is the world I bring you to; Egypt, 1100 B.C. The gift of the Nile has just receded for the season, and the black and white ibis that come closer inland during this period then retreat to the shallows near the marshes, the children of Thoth then wading about on their long legs through the reeds, using their elongated beaks to hunt for fish and amphibians to eat.

The capital city of Thebes is bustling with activity once again now that the flood has retreated, and although quite soggy, each street and avenue is set up with rows upon rows of stalls, selling the most wonderful items you could ever imagine. Sounds, smells, and colors of every conceivable shade blend together in the huge bazaar as people laugh and children play in the streets, men tell stories about their near-death experiences with the hippopotami that live upriver, and women gossip and show off their brightly colored jewelry they just bought.

A street performer dances on the corner to the music of a string quartet, the exotic, slightly choppy melody providing the excellent tempo at which to dance to. The bangles around her wrists and ankles clang together in harmony as each measure ends, her long, sun bleached-blonde hair fanning out behind her, partly obscuring the dark-haired lute player behind her. She is a very attractive woman, accented in all the right places, and a large crowd (mostly men) has come to watch her dance. Yugi knows her, and her performing here has given him the perfect opportunity at which to strike one of the stalls on this usually very busy street.

_Thank you, Mai,_ he says in his mind. Almost as if she heard him, Mai opens up one purple eye and winks at him conspirationally, subtly gesturing to a stall across from his hiding place whose owner is too engrossed in Mai's assets to notice if one small, inconspicuous boy just happened to lift a few of the succulent, sugary dates he was selling. Quite frankly, he didn't really see the appeal—about women, he means. But oh well; he had come to terms with the fact long ago that he liked his own sex a lot more than women in _that sense.  
_  
Nodding to her, Yugi seized the moment, tiptoeing across the dirt road, pulling out a small drawstring bag made of rough cotton to hold the sticky fruits. Picking at the juiciest he saw, he had almost filled the whole bag and was now reaching for another when suddenly, a large hand clamped down upon his wrist, stopping it mid-air. The teenager tensed up immediately, his mind dying of shock and fright for one agonizing moment.

"What do you think _you're_ doing, street rat?"

Yugi slowly looked over his shoulder, his already-wide violet eyes widening even further as he saw the owner of sneering voice that addressed him. It wasn't the vendor, as he had feared; no, the man wouldn't even notice being struck by lightning if it meant taking his eyes off of Mai's breasts for more three seconds. It was much worse.

Ushio, head of district police in this quarter of Thebes. Yugi cursed his bad luck, whimpering pathetically as the man painfully jerked him from the stall so hard that the boy feared that his arm would rip right off.

Ushio had seemingly made it his life's mission to catch the notorious pickpocket that was Yugi Mutou. Yugi had no idea as to why the man was out to get him. _But it's damn unlucky_, Yugi thought despairingly as he took in the beefy physique of the tall, muscle-bound law enforcer compared to his own sparrow-boned, malnourished, and miserably short stature.

"Reduced to stealing dates off of a perverted old man, are you? _Pathetic_," Ushio spat, his already bone-crushing grip tightening even further on Yugi's thin wrist. The boy internally winced as he felt a bruise already forming on his unnaturally pale skin.

"L-let… me go….U-ushio," the violet eyed boy gritted out, starting to struggle with all his might in the man's grip. He lashed out with his fist, which Ushio caught effortlessly on its way to his face. He twisted it painfully, making Yugi suddenly cry out and stop jerking in his grip. The man sneered even more, leaning in close and dropping the fist so he could hold the end of his spear against the boy's milky white throat.

"Struggle any more and my hand might slip…" Ushio growled, adding a bit of pressure on the end of the weapon. Yugi moaned in pain as he cradled his injured hand, but his eyes belied the anger and dislike he felt for the police officer.

"I hope your _ka _gets swallowed!(1)" Yugi spat. Ushio tightened his grip to the point that Yugi winced as he felt something crack in his wrist.

"You'll be regretting those words, street rat! You were born a street rat, you'll die a street rat, and only your fleas will mourn you!" Ushio snarled as he dropped his spear to aim a punch at Yugi's delicate little nose with his great, meaty fist, "Just wait until the Pharaoh gets through with you, you dog! This will just be the beginni—_ARRRGH!"_

The man suddenly released his hold on Yugi the minute he let out his very loud cry of pain. The music from the string quartet, however, drowned out most of it though, and the few people who did notice the law enforcement officer knew who he was, and didn't like him all that much. So, instead of doing anything about it, they just went back to what they were doing—ogling a very attractive and well-endowed belly-dancer, of course.

The minute Ushio released him, Yugi wasted no effort and had taken off at a dead sprint in the opposite direction. He didn't once look back, only concentrating on the rhythm of his bare feet slapping the damp ground below him. Ducking into an alleyway and exiting on a busier street, he weaved in and out through throngs of various shoppers and merchants, the bag of dates he somehow still possessed clutched tightly in his hand as his legs pumped below him. He ignored the vendors' cries to check out their wares as he sped past, stopping only to catch his breath and wipe the sweat off his brow.

Ducking into a deserted alleyway, he stopped to rest, thinking he was far enough away from Ushio to relax. His chest heaved heavily in effort to draw in more oxygen. The alleyway was shady and cool—a perfect place to rest, like one of the oases in the middle of the endless desert to the West. Smiling at that thought, Yugi sunk down against the cool wall to sit on the muddy ground, the dates clutched closely to his chest.

His heart felt like a bird, fluttering in his chest in an effort to escape. Clutching his chest, there was nothing Yugi could do but laugh as the excitement from the escape started to fade and the pain in his wrist started coming back. Making sure he didn't bend the sore appendage, the pale boy decided to wait for the one who had saved him from Ushio—he would be here any minute, after all.

Yugi stared at his dirty feet for a time before his attention was grabbed by a small snuffling noise at the entrance of the alleyway. His violet eyes slid upon a small, four-legged form trotting toward him cheerfully, its short golden fur specked with mud. It licked Yugi right below the eye with a rough pink tongue, large triangular ears perked forward in alertness. The boy giggled and petted the animal, relishing in the feeling of hard, sinewy muscle beneath the short fur.

"You bit him good and hard, didn't you, Jounouchi?" the boy asked affectionately, digging out a date from the bag and offering it to the hound. His tail started wagging in earnest at the sight of it. The dog accepted it with vigor, happily gnashing the sticky treat between his sharp teeth.

Jounouchi had been Yugi's friend ever since the boy had lost his mother to the epidemic that had plagued Egypt in his youth. Yugi had found himself on the streets, and in turn Jounouchi, then just a puppy, had found him. It was true that even at age eight, Yugi had sensed there was something… off about the dog. Like there was some intelligent light in the hound's warm brown eyes that seemed too… human comfort.

In any case, though, it had proved useful, as Yugi had trained the dog much more easily than normal, and Jounouchi had proved to be a steadfast and loyal companion. It was also nice to have someone to talk to, since it was as if the dog could understand what Yugi was saying when he talked to him.

At any rate, Jounouchi's loyalty and intelligence had come in handy today. Thanks to Jounouchi, Ushio would now have to limp home, having been bitten hard enough in his meaty calf to draw a good amount of blood. Yugi smiled at the thought. He didn't especially _like_ hurting people, but for that particular person, he was willing to make an exception.

Stretching out against the mudbrick wall of the alleyway, he shared a portion of the dried up fruits he had lifted with his companion, talking about whatever came to mind. It would be a lie to say that the canine was a good conversationalist, but at least he listened.

Gradually, the Re started to set, the sky turning hot, fiery shades of pink and orange as he sunk below the horizon, turning red in the throes of his death. Tomorrow's dawn would bring the rebirth of the God of the Sun, before he died once again at the end of the day. Standing up, Yugi brushed off the worn cloth of his _shenti_, the white kilt that all Egyptian males wore. After working out the kinks in his stiff muscles, Yugi started for the entryway of the alley, Jounouchi trotting lightly on his heels.

The sight that met him outside was one unlike any he had seen before. Thebans of all walks of life were gathered along the avenue, which just happened to be a straight shot to the front gates of the Pharaoh's palace. A parade was in progress down the avenue, led by a splendid chariot made of ebony embellished with gold leaf. Two high-stepping brown horses led the vehicle slowly and regally up the street, the tall statuesque man driving them standing tall and proud as the chariot glided smoothly underneath him.

After him came a troupe of people, maybe fifty in number. It was made up of both men and women, carrying various packages wrapped in fine silk; probably gifts for the Pharaoh. Each had that deep Egyptian tan that Yugi seemed to somehow lack, and wore fine linen _shenti_ and gowns.

After them came the main reason for the procession: A woman, held aloft by eight strapping men in an elegantly crafted wood carrier. Her form was obscured by the gauzy silk curtains surrounding her, but the last rays of Re shone through the translucent fabric, silhouetting her. If her figure was anything to go by, she was very attractive, rivaling even the beauty of the goddess Hathor.

There were many whispers among the citizens as she passed, the splendor of her procession belying her wealth and status. Her carrier alone could have fetched a fortune that would have fed five families for the rest of their lives, what with all the glittering gemstones and shining precious metals that decorated the wood.

Lurking near the back of the crowd, Yugi had to crane his neck to its fullest to even attempt to see the tops of the heads of the people carrying the packages, who were probably the woman's servants. Deciding that it was just bad luck that he was born with an incredibly short stature, he opted for listening in on the conversations going around him, to get a better picture of the whole situation.

He was not disappointed:

"…I heard it's the daughter of the Memphite administrator of the district of Horus in Lower Egypt," a squat, rotund man standing within hearing distance of Yugi commented to a taller woman next to him, who was more than likely his wife.

"Probably come to try and win the affections of the Pharaoh," the woman said with a sigh, fanning herself with her hand, "It's too bad he didn't have any sisters; it would have made this whole ordeal much easier. He could have just married one of them, instead of having to go to the trouble to court all of the noblewomen in Egypt in hopes that he likes one of them enough to become his queen."

The man snorted, eyeing the figure in the carrier appreciatively as if appraising a slab of thick, juicy meat. "Well, no offense to his majesty, but he must be quite picky to pass up such a fine woman. If I had the chance to…" he trailed off as he took in the look his wife was giving him.

"That's what I thought," said the woman curtly.

At that point Yugi stopped listening and started weaving through the crowd, having no interest in the daughter of some unnamed noble from Memphis attempting to court his Holiness the Pharaoh. He bumped into many people, their reactions ranging from ignoring him completely to taking in the boy's dirty appearance and hissing at him angrily for even breathing the same air as them.

"People are cruel," Yugi had said to Jounouchi after he accidentally bumped into a lady who had called him all sorts of degrading names, among them the usual use of the words "dog" and "street-rat". Jounouchi had made a small yipping sound in reply, as if he were agreeing with the violet-eyed boy.

Soon enough, the boy and hound exited the large crowd of people that was starting to disperse now that the gates to the palace had closed resolutely behind the procession. They turned into a deserted back alley that led to the part of town where Yugi's flat lay. The only light that they now had to guide themselves by was Chons, the Pathfinder, who lit up the dark each night.

Yugi felt himself shivering as the temperature dropped sharply as the cool of the night replaced the sweltering heat of the day. Egypt was a land of radical temperature, and even though all the inhabitants of the nation had lived through this their whole lives, Yugi felt himself speeding up in an effort to get home and wrap himself up in his favorite blanket.

As Yugi sped up, so did Jounouchi, and eventually the two had broken out in a dead run, their bare feet/paws slapping the bare dirt audibly as the street started to incline sharply. Upper Egypt was notorious for being very hilly, and Thebes was no exception. Yugi, however, felt relieved as his breath started to come out in pants as he neared the summit of the small rise. His one-story flat was just at the top of it.

Jounouchi suddenly sped up, racing toward the top as if Ammat himself was chasing his tail. By the time Yugi came huffing and puffing up to the zenith, Jounouchi was already standing near the entrance to the small house, happily panting and wagging his tail excitedly, barking cheerfully as Yugi took a second to regain his breath. The violet-eyed boy beamed fondly at his canine friend, walking slowly and pushing aside the thick cloth curtain that served as a door.

There were no other sounds on the street except for the two of them. Nobody lived here anymore; it had cleared out because of the epidemic that took his mother and grandfather eight summers ago.

Despite the solitude, there was another reason as to why Yugi stayed there. The house wasn't all that big, and the furniture and decoration was sparse—but _oh_, if you could see it. Perched atop the hill, it was on higher ground than any other house in Thebes. And if you climbed the narrow step ladder to the flat roof, armed with a blanket and a bag of dates, you would be rewarded with the most magnificent view in all of Egypt.

To the west lay the great home of his Holiness, the Pharaoh. It was a magnificent building; a palace in every sense of the word. Sheltered by a high wall and surrounded by tall palms, the castle glowed amidst the dark city of Thebes. Yugi could see the great balcony where the Pharaoh went out to greet his people, and he could faintly see the darkened silhouettes of guards patrolling the grounds. Beyond the Palace lay the marshy banks of the Nile, where animals such as the crocodile, ibis, and hippopotamus lurked. Beyond the Nile were the steep rocky cliffs colored indigo with the night. And beyond those, Yugi knew, were the endless deserts that stretched to the West, where there wasn't a drop of water for another thousand miles.

The boy wrapped the heavy wool blanket around his shoulders, cuddling close to the warmth of Jounouchi, breathing in his comforting canine smell. Jounouchi let out a small whine, licking Yugi's hair.

Yugi sighed, gazing longingly to the West. "I want to live there, Jounouchi. To one day live in privilege, not having to steal just to get food in your mouth. To live a life free of problems, where your only worry is what cut of beef you're going to have at your next banquet." Yugi's pillowy pink lips quirked into a mournful smile, adjusting his position so his head rested comfortably on the small of Jounouchi's back. He listened to his friend pant under him, his rapid heartbeat lulling him into a strange sense of calm.

"I'd love for just one day to not be called a street rat, you know?" Yugi said, throwing his arm over his eyes. Jounouchi made a low, non-committal sound in his throat. A breeze suddenly swept over the two of them, accomplishing in making Yugi's already messy hair even more of a disaster.

He took one last long look at the huge building near the river, yawning as his eyelids started to get heavy. There was a moment of silence, the only noise being the slow breaths of the boy, the pants of the hound, and the low howling of the wind off the cliffs.

"Okay;" he said finally, "time for bed."

The two slowly made their way down the step-ladder, Yugi sort of having to half-carry, half-drag his dog companion down the incline. The minute the boy stepped on the hard-packed dirt of the floor, he immediately made a bee-line for the straw pallet he slept on, throwing himself down onto the bedding tiredly. Jounouchi soon joined him, curling around his human friend. Yugi was almost instantly asleep, his breathing low, deep, and even.

That night, Yugi dreamt of lavish halls decorated in gold, silk sheets, ripe, succulent fruit, and rich wine.

And that night, he dreamt of a man with bronze skin and blood eyes.

* * *

(1) The ancient Egyptians believed your soul to be split into two parts, your _ba _and your _ka._ When you got judged to go to the afterlife, Anubis, god of embalming, weighed your heart against a feather. If it was heavier than the feather, that symbolized that it was weighted down with sin, and therefore you didn't get passage to the afterlife. Your _ka _got swallowed by the monster Ammat, and you just ceased to exist. It was the worst thing that could happen after death to an Ancient Egyptian.

LOL, I think that Review button's a bit lonely. ;D


	2. II The Sands of Time Forever Blow

* * *

Right. Here's chapter one. This is where the plot actually begins, and with it the twincest. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. D:

**_Disclaimer_**: If I actually had the rights to Yu-Gi-Oh, it would all be set in Ancient Egypt, and stuff like this shit would happen ALL THE TIME.

* * *

Far away from the city of Thebes, across the Nile and beyond the Valley of the Kings that lay to the north, is a small patch of rocky desert devoid of life. There is no water, or vegetation, or shelter for at least a league in each direction. It is utterly flat, and only in darkness will you find any cover in which to hide yourself. To any passing traveler, it seems like an entirely different planet than the world of the fertile Nile valley.

It is isolated, so there are nobody nearby to come to your aid if need be. It is open, so there is no risk of ambush. And it is treacherous, with winds rumored to flay the skin of a man's face in less than ten seconds in the right conditions. The plain is also infested with jackals, hungry and looking for a meal of man-flesh to satisfy their cravings. One had to be very brave or very foolish to even consider riding out there in the dead of night.

That, or very, very greedy.

And Haga was a self-proclaimed victim of avarice.

He had traveled all the way from Thebes; stowed away on a boat across the Nile and even stole a workhorse on which to ride. And now he was braving jackals and skin-ripping wind for the chance at a treasure far beyond his wildest dreams. One worthy, it was rumored, for the gods themselves.

Haga squinted in the darkness (his eyesight was dismal to begin with). Wrapping his headscarf closer around his face as the wind—so far not flaying any skin off of his body; he was beginning to think that was made up—buffeted at his small form. He tried to discern any sort of shape or blob silhouetted against the night sky. He was meeting someone of high importance—that much he knew.

The boy frowned as he systematically scanned the plain, his poor eyesight roaming over every rock and boulder, always on the sharp lookout for jackals. He had not met one yet, for that much he was thankful.

Suddenly, a shape of what vaguely looked to be a man seated on horseback abruptly caught his eye, standing near a small outcropping of rocks that jutted straight and proud into the sky, like the sacred Obelisk in Karnak. His heart beating faster in anticipation, Haga spurred his horse onward toward the image.

The wind started blowing thrice as hard as it had before, and Haga began to fear that there was actually some merit to that wind-rumor. It ripped at his cloak and substantially slowed his horse, but he pushed onward, determined to get to the figure and get his treasure. He thought he heard a howl of a jackal of the distance, but that might have just been the sound of the wind in his ears.

As he got closer to the figure on horseback, he saw that there was another standing beside him, almost exactly like it in size and shape. Haga rubbed his eyes, wondering if the desert was playing tricks on him. He looked again and saw there was, in fact, another rider.

Also, as he neared the two figures, he began to appreciate the size and height of the outcropping the two were situated by. It truly was a natural obelisk; a tribute to the gods from the very earth itself, and Haga couldn't stop the quiver of awe that traveled through his insides.

As suddenly as it had started, the wind abruptly stopped, making his ride to the obelisk an easy one in comparison to the rest of the journey. He now could start to make out features, and as bad as his eyesight was, he could discern the wild mop of platinum blonde hair atop the one closest to him, and another, more controlled hair style of the same color on the other. Spurring his steed forward, Haga soon closed the distance, for once getting a good look at the people with whom he was meeting.

They both had deep, Egyptian tans and light violet eyes, and both were very, very beautiful. That, along with their hair color, cemented it in Haga's mind that they were twins. The one with the wild hairstyle, however, was much bulkier and more broad-shouldered than his slighter twin, and he had a sort of…off look in his eye; as if he was taking a euphoric amount of sadistic glee every moment you were intimidated by him. And let me tell you, Haga was very intimidated. And judging by his glare, he was not happy.

"You are _late_," he spat, snarling at the thoroughly terrified boy. "I trust you've kept your end of the bargain?"

Haga tried to appear and sound as nonchalant as possible. "Well, I had to slit a few throats…" he started, but by the identical looks the twins were giving him, they weren't falling for it. "…So, uh… here it is," he ended lamely, pulling out a small pouch, the contents of which he emptied into his hand.

He showed them half of a ruby-encrusted solid gold scarab brooch. The twin with the wild hair made a grab for it, but Haga quickly kept it out of his reach, attempting to give him a haughty look of his own. "Nuh-uh-uh," he scolded, holding out his other free hand. The night air was thick with tension. "The treasure…?"

As soon as the words came out of his mouth, he could feel his half of the scarab being plucked out of his hand by the slighter twin, who had so far not spoken during the entire tense exchange. Haga only looked dumbly as the meaner looking twin sneered at him once more, taking the scarab piece from his brother. "Thank you, Malik," he intoned.

Malik preened under the praise, his gold jewelry glinting in the moonlight. "Anything for you, Marik," he purred. His voice was much silkier and higher than that of his brother's. Marik turned from his twin; his eyes hardening dangerously as an insane grin slowly overtook his face.

"Don't worry, insect," Marik spat at Haga, still baring his teeth in that feral smile of his. Marik's bronze hand reached inside his heavy purple cloak, producing the other half of the scarab."You'll have what's coming to you; I _promise._"

That did not make Haga feel any better in the slightest.

Marik fitted the two pieces together perfectly.

Something curious happened as he did so: There was a spark, or maybe a flash; something bright. And suddenly, Marik dropped the thing as if he had been burnt. But, gravity seemed to have no effect on the object, and the gold seemed to glow hot and the rubies to melt, boiling as if they were tiny pools of blood. There was another spark, and wings snapped open as the beetle sped off into the night across the plain, leaving a faint glowing residue of (magic?) in its trail.

There was a moment of silence, before…

"_After it!_"

Haga wasn't sure which brother had said it, but at any rate both Malik and Marik had taken off at exactly the same time, going full gallop on their thoroughbred horses across the desert, their cloaks whipping out behind them, as if becoming one with the night. Haga stared stupidly after them, before sighing, and looking at his own 'trusty steed'.

There wasn't anything Haga could do but follow their trails of dust.

* * *

Malik struggled to keep up with Marik, who was whipping his horse so hard that he could see a faint sheen of what could only be blood on the animal's rump. Marik had been irritable all day, Malik had noticed, and had been practically frothing at the mouth the moment that cretin Haga showed up at their meeting place.

Now Malik couldn't describe the look of pure, feral elation that had overtaken his older brother's face as they chased after the enchanted gold scarab. They practically flew on their horses, both sets of lilac eyes locked on the sparkly trail of magic that the beetle left in its wake. Malik had no idea where Haga went to.

_He better hurry up_, the younger twin thought irately, _Marik still has use for him yet._

There was a flash, and suddenly Malik's eyes were jerked once again to the scarab, which had started to hover over a sizable mound of soil. He looked on in awe as the beetle suddenly split itself in two once again, thrusting itself into two spots near the top of the hillock. The halves started to glow even brighter, and the rubies seemed to melt and run over the surface of the gold, making it an iridescent red.

Malik barely noticed Haga catching up to them as he gauged his brother's expression. It was a mix of giddy delight and dark smugness as the ground started to shake violently beneath them, causing their horses to rear up in panic, throwing both Malik and Haga off their steeds. Marik however, held tightly to the reins of his mount as he started to laugh hysterically, that insane grin plastered all over his features.

"_At last!" _he screamed, "_Its mine, after all these years!_"

But neither Malik nor Haga were paying any attention to the older twin, for their eyes and attention were glued onto the mound where the scarab halves had landed. The wind tugged at their clothes and hair harshly and dust got in their eyes, but nothing could distract them from the phenomenon happening before them. From the mound rose a cave, whose entrance was in the shape of an openmouthed jackal. It had red eyes, demonic in look. Both Malik and Haga prostrated themselves on the ground, thinking that this was the entrance of the realm of Anubis and the Underworld. Marik, however, only scoffed, dismounting his horse.

"Get up, you worthless lowlifes," he growled, pulling both Malik and Haga up by the forearm roughly, "this is no entrance to the underworld—I promise you." Malik coughed and adjusted his robes, looking sheepish. Haga could do nothing but stare, petrified with fear.

Marik turned back to the jackal-cave, the inside of the mouth glowing a faint yellow. He grinned suddenly.

"After all my years of searching," he cooed, stepping forward, "The Cave of Wonders…." He suddenly turned, fixing Haga with an indecipherable look.

"Well, go on then," he said, gesturing toward the literal cave mouth. "We haven't got all day."

"M-me?" Haga stuttered numbly. He looked very startled. "What for?" He was roughly pushed forward by Malik, who fixed him with a sneer.

"We had a deal, you insect," the younger twin said. "You said you'd get the lamp for Marik. You can keep the rest of the treasure you find, but the lamp is _ours_." He shot a look toward his brother. Marik nodded in confirmation.

Haga gulped as he took in the sharp fangs that guarded the entrance. Steeling himself, he climbed up to the mouth, and as he looked down into the glowing yellow depths, he could see that it really was a mouth, which steeply declined down to a throat. Haga wiped the sweat off his brow. _This takes 'the belly of the beast' to the next level,_ he thought derisively.

He made to take a step onto the hard stone tongue that served as the floor, but a huge gust of moist air halted his actions, propelling him out of the cave and making him fly through the air to land on the hard ground with a thump. He looked on in horror as the cave started to move, and inhale some more, and the mouth of the jackal to speak. Its voice was deep and powerful, as if it echoed from the underworld from the mouth of Anubis himself.

"_Who disturbs my slumber?_"

Haga's mouth refused to work, as did the rest of his body. He even forgot how to breathe. But at the twins' identical pointed looks, he forced himself to get up from off the ground and make his paralyzed vocal cords to form something close to words.

"I-it is I, Haga!" he croaked, trying to sound brave. "A-a humble s-son of a fi-fisherma-an."

The cave laughed, a terrifyingly awful noise that sounded like two boulders scraping together. "_And do you, _Haga, _think you are worthy of entering the Cave of Wonders?"_

Haga could only nod.

The jackal's snout contorted into some horrible parody of a grin as it snorted in amusement. "_I'm afraid I quite like you, Haga,_" the cave said, his voice echoing over the plain and against the cliffs a league away, "_It will be a shame if you are not worthy. Know this: Only one can enter the Cave of Wonders, one whose worth lies deep beneath the surface; a diamond in the rough. So enter, young Son-Of-A-Fisherman, and prove your worth!"_

Both Marik and Malik shared a confused look during this little speech, but shrugged it away. Haga sent a look their way that was both panicked and pleading, but Marik just made a gesture to get on with it. The cave opened its mouth wide once again, and Haga forced his legs into motion, climbing the mound once again. Cold tendrils of fear for his life were coiling in Haga's stomach, his stomach was one big knot, and he was sweating bullets. In short, he was a wreck.

He looked deep into the throat of the cave, trying not to notice the strong gusts of air that hit him every time the jackal exhaled. Taking a deep breath, he slowly placed one sandaled foot onto the floor of the cave, flinching as he did so. He waited for one, two, three seconds.

Nothing happened.

He let out a relieved sigh.

A deep, guttural roar sounded from the depths of the cave. Haga screamed so loudly that he was certain that Egyptians all the way in Alexandria could hear him. He made to run out of the cave, but suddenly, the jackal's mouth clamped down on him, crushing him beneath the weight of the earth. It was an agonizingly painful death.

The cave exploded outward, sending a flood of rocks and dirt and sand in all directions. Marik and Malik dove for shelter, the younger of the two twins finding refuge behind a sizable rock. The deluge lasted for all of fifteen seconds, but it was enough to re-shape the terrain in the surrounding area.

Malik peered out from behind the rock which had saved him, coughing as he fought to get dust out of his lungs. He quickly rubbed the dirt out of his eyes, trying to catch sight of his brother.

After about five seconds of not being able to find him, Malik began to panic, his heart beginning to pump with the fear that Marik might have been buried alive.

"Marik!" he called into the still night air. He couldn't see the horses either; they must have fled the moment the cave rose from the earth. "Marik, brother, where are you?" His hands started tugging at his own long blonde hair in despair.

"_Marik!"_

"I'm right over here, dumbass."

Malik whirled around, and behind him was Marik, warm, real, dirty, and _alive._ Marik's lilac eyes, so much like Malik's, softened at the state his brother was in. He opened his arms slightly. "Come here," he said, using a tender voice reserved only for his brother at times like these.

Malik wasted no time and flew into Marik's arms, clinging to him as if the earth was threatening to fall away beneath him. Marik awkwardly held his brother, choosing to say nothing; he didn't exactly know how to comfort a person. He took in Malik's slightly shaking shoulders with a frown.

"You're crying," the older of the two stated.

Malik sniffed and rubbed at his eyes, which were indeed watery. "Yeah, I guess you're right. I was just so… so…" he trailed off, not wanting to admit it.

Marik grinned. "Scared?" he finished for him.

Malik refused to make eye contact. "Yeah," he said lamely.

"Oooh, how sweet—little Malik worrying for his brother's life," Marik teased, letting go of the other twin while still wearing his shit-eating grin. He leaned down so his mouth was positioned close to Malik's ear. "Remind me to reward you when we get home," he whispered devilishly.

A dark blush overtook Malik's tanned face, and he quickly put some distance in between himself and Marik. Malik's eyes chose to instead roam over the desert until they found their way back to the mound. His hands flew up to his mouth in a gasp.

"Brother, what about the lamp?" he asked in horror—he had forgotten about it up until now.

Marik waved him off in dismissal, reaching into his cloak and pulling out the two halves of the scarab he had retrieved from the earth. They were back to their original states. He showed them to Malik.

"It is no matter," he said, putting the beetle back once he was sure his brother had seen them. "I heard the cave say something right before it collapsed on top of Haga. _Find the diamond in the rough_, it said."

Malik scoffed at his brother's casual tone. He snorted in derision. "Yeah, that should be easy; to find one person out of all the people of Egypt. _Are you out of your mind?_"

Marik threw his head back and laughed then, grinning wildly at his brother. "Of course I am, my dear Malik! It is an insult to think anything less, beloved brother!" he giggled a bit before he settled himself, fixing his brother with an amused glance. "But, alas, I have a plan."

"You always have a plan," Malik conceded with a sigh.

Marik smiled darkly. "Of course I do."

* * *

That super cool green button really wants you to press it!


	3. III Persuasion

Well, heres the second chapter. :D No Blindshipping yet but plenty of Bronzeshipping at the end. This chapter contains copious amount of bratty!Atem and frustrated!Seto. xD This was definately the most enjoyable chapter to write.

**_Thank you so much to my wonderful reviewers, NomNoms92, Lumrosa-chan, yugixyamiyaoilover, and a special thanks to Mysia Ri, who loved the fact that I killed off Haga so much that she added me to her fav authors!_**

**_Thank you to all the people who put this story on alert. You are the reason I even post this fic._**

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Yugioh, and I don't even own enough creativity to make a decent disclaimer.

* * *

It had been a rough day for Seto, cousin of the pharaoh and High Priest of Egypt.

There had been a particularly nasty dispute in court today between Priestess Isis and Priest Mahaado over the training of his apprentice, Mana. And, of course Seto had to mediate. For two. Whole. Hours. Why?

Because he was the High-_freaking_-Priest of Egypt, that's why. And that, combined with his already stressful duties, made him want his _ka _be swallowed by Ammat right then and there. All he wanted to do now was head back to his chambers, have a servant bring him some wine and grapes, and then go promptly to sleep in between silk sheets. But could he do that? Noooooo.

Because after he was the High-_freaking-_Priest of Egypt, he was then Atem's cousin; which means—he shuddered at this—that he would have to keep the man _company._

Don't get him wrong, though; Seto loved his cousin. But as much as he loved him, Seto was in all respects a regular human being, which means he wanted some downtime to himself. But, unfortunately, the pharaoh came first. His short, temperamental, moody, arrogant, conceited, self-centered cousin, who just happened to be his king and ruler—the living embodiment of Horus.

Sometimes Seto cursed his misfortune; now was one of those times.

Steeling himself with a sigh, Seto marched off to the throne room, his long white cloak billowing out behind him menacingly. His mood only worsened when he heard hurried footsteps coming down the corridor toward him, along with the sound of stifled sobbing. His cobalt eyes narrowed as he locked onto the figure running in his direction, catching her as she almost rammed right into him.

"Lady Anzu," he said softly, so as to not upset her further, "what happened?"

The brown haired woman's head snapped up at the sound of somebody addressing her. Seto winced as more rivulets of tears fell from her crystalline blue eyes and as she practically latched herself to the front of his blue tunic.

"O-oh, Priest Seto," she hiccupped in between her sobs, "I-I'm sorry. It's just… it's just…" She gave a high pitched wail and promptly broke into more wet sobs, succeeding in making the front of Seto's tunic very damp. The priest awkwardly patted her back, making comforting sounds so as to extract more information from the distraught girl.

"Shhh, shh, it's okay….it's okay…. Just tell me what happened…" he said, trying to calm her down. All his effort gained was a rough shove given to him by the very girl whom he was trying to get to stop crying. He glared at her menacingly from under his headdress, but Anzu ignored it, bowing low.

"I-I'm sorry, High Priest," she sniffed, obviously still crying. She stood up straight and looked around furtively, wiping at her eyes with the sleeve of her gown, badly smudging the thick ring of kohl outlining her eyes. "I…I must go. Thank you for your concern!" She quickly fled down the length of the hallway, swiftly turning a corner out of sight. Seto's cold eyes smoldered with rage, narrowing to slits as he stormed into the throne room, throwing open the stone doors with such force that they shook the walls behind them, thoroughly scaring the guards stationed there. The pharaoh, however, just raised one delicate eyebrow as he continued to slouch jadedly in his great stone throne, looking totally uninterested in this new development.

"Ah, Cousin; to what do I owe this great honor of you gracing this humble pharaoh with your benevolent presence?" Atem asked, his voice full of snark.

Seto ignored the bait to instead gesture angrily in the direction of the hallway with his Millennium Rod. "What was _that?" _he practically snarled.

Atem lounged back into his throne, seeming to thoroughly enjoy examining his nails. "Maybe I should pay a visit to the royal manicurist," he said, turning his attention to the other male and showing him his cuticles. "What do you think, Seto?"

Seto inwardly counted to ten, calming himself to a level capable of speech. He glared daggers at the patch of wall just above Atem's head—glaring straight at the pharaoh could result in both corporal and divine punishment. "Again, I ask—_What was that?"_

Atem seemed to ponder the question for a moment, tapping his chin in thought. "What was what?" he asked, trying to look as innocent as possible (he couldn't manage much, that was for sure).

A mournful, high pitched wail sounded from somewhere deep in the palace, and both the pharaoh and the high priest had to cover their ears at the sheer decibel of the noise. Seto looked smug for a moment before adopting his usual serious demeanor. He jerked a thumb in the direction of the noise.

"_That—_Lady Anzu of Memphis. What did you do to her that got her so upset?"

Atem looked at Seto for a long time, his piercing crimson gaze holding his cousin immobile for the longest time, appraising him silently. Finally he leant back into the great stone chair, once again examining his cuticles. "What makes you think I did anything?" he asked snidely.

Seto risked divine retribution by staring straight at the king, who was more than unnerved under his cousin's fathomless blue gaze. But he was determined to ignore it, because of course the _Pharaoh_—ruler of the two lands of Egypt, the morning star—was not intimidated by _anyone._

They kept it up for about a minute before Atem caved and stated, "Fine. I sent her packing. Happy now?"

In a matter of seconds Seto went from feeling victorious to utterly flabbergasted. "You _what?_" the priest shrieked, his eyes going wide. "What was wrong with her? She is the fairest in all of Lower Egypt—if anybody she was the one most qualified to becoming Your Majesty's queen! Whatever was the matter?!"

Atem sighed, staring at a patch of air right above the top of Seto's irritating ceremonial headdress.

"She was so boring!" he intoned dispassionately, waving the guards out of the room so he and his cousin could talk in private. Once they were out of the room he continued. "Positively vapid," he scoffed, crossing his arms haughtily. "I don't think I could have tolerated another moment of her wearisome groveling."

Seto removed his headdress, moving to a chair at the right hand of the throne once the guards weren't there to witness his insolence. He leaned on the arm of the chair heavily, almost at a loss for words.

"My Pharaoh…" he sighed at last.

Atem leaned over so he was nose to nose with his brunette cousin. His blood-colored gaze bored into Seto's blue eyes. "Exactly," he stated in that low, sultry voice of his. "I am the Pharaoh. I can do what I want, whenever I want. If I told you to stick your hand into a bag of scorpions, you would do it. I have already said I have no interest in taking a wife. And you, not even my own cousin, can change my mind." Suddenly he leaned back, barking out a laugh. Seto looked faintly startled, but Atem just ignored it, and leant in close once again. "Plus," he whispered conspirationally, as if they had gone back to the time when he was only a prince and Seto a priest in training once again, "if I do ever marry, I want it to be for love. I want because both I and my partner want to. Everybody else in Egypt does it like that."

Seto sighed for the umpteenth time that afternoon. "A noble concept, my Pharaoh. But, you have to consider the continuation of the line…. You are the King, and as king it is one of your duties to provide either a son or daughter as the heir to the throne. It is your duty to _Egypt_," he said, sounding dangerously holier-than-thou.

Atem mumbled something incoherent at that.

"Excuse me?" Seto asked, confused.

"I said," the pharaoh clarified, his gaze strong and confident, but his tone wavering just the slightest bit, "that maybe I don't want to be the King all that badly."

Seto stumbled backward out of his chair. "Wh-what are you saying?" he asked, scandalized.

Atem rose from his throne, gaining confidence with each word that he spoke. "Maybe I don't want to be the king!" he said determinedly, his voice starting to belie years of pent up frustration. "Maybe I never wanted to have this duty to Egypt, to the people! To give up my own life to serve others, and to have others serve me, throwing themselves down at my feet at each meaningless word that comes out of my mouth! It may not have occurred to you, Seto, but I am mortal too! I am just as human as you, not some living god as everyone—including you—seem to think I am!

"All my nineteen years I have spent my life in this palace, in this very wing, being educated, learning everything I needed to know up until this point, just so I could become the Pharaoh! All my life has revolved around this very moment, and you know what? I'm _sick_ of it! Entirely, utterly, truly _ill_ at the thought of living the rest of my life exactly like this! No, don't give me that look! I need to get this off my chest!" He suddenly collapsed back into his throne, breathing heavily. His tanned face was flushed with anger, but he felt immensely better now that he had ranted the frustrations that have plagued him over his life.

He looked at Seto for the first time since his tantrum began. The man was immobile, and his headdress was back in place on his brow (when he had done that, Atem wasn't sure). The priest wasn't looking at him but Atem knew his cousin well enough that he was about ready to implode with fury. He waited to be screamed at, raved at, maybe even struck—heck, he would have done it if he were in Seto's position! Surprisingly though, the man did none of those things, and instead stated, rather calmly, "You are so selfish, Atem. You always have been."

And then he spun on his heel, his white cape swooshing dramatically behind him, and coolly paced out of the throne room, leaving Atem behind in shock. As the doors shut behind him, Atem slumped back into his chair, and he couldn't help but give a wry smile.

_He said my name,_ he thought sardonically, fiddling with the smooth gold of the Millennium puzzle which hung around his neck. _He hasn't called me Atem since I became Pharaoh. It's a start._

* * *

Seto angrily paced the length of his chambers, stepping over the shattered remains of a few priceless vases that once decorated his room but now laid broken on the floor after Seto had hurled them at the stone walls in fury. He couldn't remember a time when he had been _this _angry with his cousin. Sure, they had had spats and arguments before, and even a couple fistfights when they were young. But he had never felt a rage this… intense before. This went beyond screaming his lungs out or breaking things in anger (well, okay, maybe he had felt a little better after chucking the vases against the wall…). He never had so much pent-up rage before. And frankly, he didn't know what to do with it.

He was abruptly interrupted in his stewing by a loud knock on the door. He glared at it poisonously, willing whoever was on the other side would shut up and go the fuck away. But, the knocking persisted, and Seto, in his antagonized state, could think of nothing but to eloquently scream, "WHAT IN THE NAME OF OSIRIS COULD BE SO IMPORTANT THAT YOU NEED TO KNOCK SO IRRITATINGLY ON MY DOOR TWENTY THOUSAND TIMES?!"

He instantly regretted losing his cool, sheepishly acknowledging the fact that the number of times the person knocked on the door wasn't anywhere _near_ twenty-thousand (It was more like ten, but in Seto's defense, they _were_ irritating).

He hastily made his way to the door, intending to apologize to the poor servant girl he had probably frightened to death on the other side of the door. Once he opened it though, all words of remorse promptly died on his lips as he took into account the person in front of him. All of a sudden, Seto's horrible mood came rushing back to him. Narrowing his eyes to mere slits, he all but snarled at the man, "What do _you_ want, Malik?"

The slighter, blonde haired man breezed right past the enraged priest and into his room, settling down on a bench at the foot of Seto's incredibly plush canopy bed. Stretching out on the comfortable surface, he insolently snatched an apple from the plate of fruit set on a nearby table. Polishing it on his shirt, he took a huge bit out of it, juice running enticingly down his lower lip and chin.

"Oh, Seto," he purred, his voice flowing like velvet even around the mouthful of fruit, "Does one of the Pharaoh's most trusted advisers need a reason to see the king's cousin? I should hope not."

Seto's glare became more venomous as Malik finished the apple and reached for a pear. Malik peered at him from his spot on the cushioned bench.

"Sit down, Seto," he said, licking his fingers free from the essence of the apple with his dainty pink tongue, "I don't bite. It's your room, after all."

"I'll stand, thank you," Seto gritted out through clenched teeth. Malik smiled fondly at him and sat up, resting his hands on his knees.

"Suit yourself," the blonde said, his melodious laughter flooding the room. He looked purposefully up at Seto, grinning blithely. "Ah, well, now that we have the pleasantries out of the way—severely lacking on your part, Seto, I'm afraid—I guess we'll just have to get down to business then."

"I knew it," the brunette muttered. Malik only giggled before becoming serious once again.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask an awful lot of you this time, Seto." Seto's eyes narrowed at this, before Malik continued, "I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to part with your Millennium Rod for a while."

"You _what?"_ the blue eyed man hissed, towering menacingly over the smaller male. Malik merely put his hands up in a gesture of surrender, the unconcerned smile still plastered on his attractive face.

"No harm will come to it," he assured, looking Seto straight in the eye, "It's only for a few hours. _Trust me._"

As soon as the words fell from his lips, Seto could feel some magic working over him, as if a haze fogged his mind, making him trust in every word the blonde man said. He unsteadily grabbed the rod, handing it to Malik, who took it with a smile.

"Thank you, Seto," he hummed, placing the gold item in a bag he had brought with him. "It will come back to you before the sun sets on the next day, I assure you." He got up from the lounge then, heading for the door.

Before he could leave, though, Seto unexpectedly called out to him.

"Malik, wait!"

Malik turned around, looking expectant. "Hm?"

Seto had his eyes narrowed in suspicion, cobalt blue glaring into warm lilac. He crossed his arms, frowning. "Have you had any word from your brother?" he asked, his voice low.

Malik's smile faltered for a second, before returning full force, albeit rather confused. "Why, no, of course not! He's supposed to be banished to the West deserts, remember?"

Seto's frown deepened further. "Well… there's a rumor going around, that Marik's back in Egypt. I don't know if it's true or not, but I wanted to make sure you knew, because you're the one he'll probably check in with first, since you're his twin. If you have any news on him, will you tell me?"

Malik smiled warmly at this. "Of course, Seto. It honors me that you trust me so. But I really must be leaving now."

"Goodbye then."

"Goodbye."

* * *

Malik waited until nightfall to sneak out of the palace via a small servant entrance in the western wall. He was shrouded in a dark cloak in order to camouflage himself and blend in with the shadows so he could duck the guards if need be. He clutched the linen purse he carried with an iron grip, its weight reassuring him that he had completed the task assigned to him.

He shut the small door (a cupboard, really), letting out a breath he hadn't known he had been holding when it clicked shut with an air of finality. He inhaled sharply as a shadow fell over him from behind, the musty smell of the Nile marshlands pervading his nostrils as he did so. He resisted the urge to scream as a hand slowly turned him around. It was not unheard of for guards to be patrolling the outside of the walls this time of night.

He looked cautiously out from beneath his hood, letting out a small noise of relief when he saw it was only Marik, who looked rather agitated by being so close to the palace so early, even under the cover of nightfall.

Malik let a wan smile grace his features, digging into the purse and presenting his older brother with his prize, the Millennium Rod.

"Marik, brother! I've gotten it!" Malik whispered proudly as Marik took the rod from his hands, caressing the gleaming gold metal tenderly, as one would do with a lover. A vicious, triumphant smile broke out over the elder's lips, gripping the shaft of the rod tightly within his iron hold.

"For too long have I been parted with this," he said, almost wistfully. "But now that I have it, I will not be letting it go again anytime soon. Your powers of persuasion are as remarkable as ever, dear Malik." At this, Malik only coughed sheepishly and shuffled his feet fretfully in the dirt.

Marik raised an eyebrow. "Is there something you wish to tell me, adored brother?"

"Well, um…" Malik started, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. Marik gave him a look that said to spit it out. "I… I sort of promised Seto that I would bring it back sometime before sunset tomorrow. I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking." Malik bowed low in apology.

Marik gave Malik a long, patronizing look. His piercing gaze thoroughly unnerved the younger of the two, who kept his eyes respectfully averted. After a moment Marik let out a long-suffering sigh, throwing his hands in the air.

"Oh well," he said, trying to make it sound like it wasn't a big deal. "That's life. I'll have it back once you're pharaoh."

Malik's head abruptly snapped up, his eyes going wide at this new revelation. Why hadn't he heard this part of the plot before?

"M-me?" he stuttered, trying to figure out if this wasn't some ill-humored joke his brother was playing on him. "The _pharaoh?_ Surely brother, I am no king…."

Marik grinned sharply at this, fixing his brother with an intense look. "Why Malik, of course! What do you think I intend to gain with this plot? Petty revenge? Oh no; I got over being banished years ago. I've set my sight on something much better—Egypt. And since you're the second royal adviser, sweet Malik, you are the third in line at becoming the pharaoh if something were to… happen to dear Atem. All we need to do is eliminate your competition: The pharaoh's cousin, High Priest Seto, and the old man, First Vizier Shimon.

"This is why we need to act now, at the opportune moment, before he has a queen to rule for him if he were to pass to the other side of the Nile unexpectedly."

"Brother, it's ingenious, but…"

Marik looked at his brother coldly, as if he were somebody stupid. "Are you still stuck on the whole Pharaoh business? Obviously _I _will be your vizier, which means we will rule Egypt together, and expand our kingdom to its former glory centuries ago!"

Malik let this plan sink into his head for a little bit, images of he and Marik garbed in the finest silks in Egypt, being fed grapes as servants fanned them with peacock feathers. All in all it was a very pleasing image. An evil grin slowly crept onto his beautiful face, making Marik shiver with delight and desire.

Really, Malik shouldn't have been so surprised to be shoved up against the palace wall, pinned there by a very aroused Marik.

"Br-Brother?!" he spluttered, a huge blush dusting the bridge of his nose.

"You did an excellent job today Malik," he whispered huskily into the shorter's ear, blowing on the shell so as to make Malik groan and writhe against him, setting off all sorts of delightful friction between the two. The cooling night air suddenly became swelteringly hot again, and these clothes certainly weren't helping anything.

"…And I'm pretty sure you never claimed your reward from last night…."

Something snapped.

Suddenly, their mouths met in a passionate battle for dominance. Lips, teeth, tongue; all weapons for asserting their position. Sparks flew as Malik's hands tangled in Marik's wild platinum hair, and Marik's hands wormed their way inside white robes in order to greedily possess the flawless bronze skin that lay beneath. They parted only for breath, and tunics and cloaks and sandals were quickly shed as the two fervently made zealous love against the cold palace wall.

The only witness to this was a hapless Nile crocodile, who quickly lost interest and disappeared under the water, shining like liquid silver.

* * *

Iloveyou. Review, please. :)


	4. IV The Bazaar

URGH. I'M SORRY FOR THE CRAPPYNESS OF THIS CHAPTER. I BASICALLY RIPPED THE LAST TWO THIRDS OF IT STRAIGHT FROM THE MOVIE. IF YUGI ACTS OUT OF CHARACTER, I'M SORRY FOR THAT TOO. SAME WITH ATEM

**_Thank you to all of the people who put this on alert. I also thank the people who reviewed the last time for reviewing again. And I thank Miss Mousie's computer for letting her finally review. xD_**

**Okay, now I have a question.** I just stole one of my friend's Yugioh games for the Gameboy Advance. You know, the ones where all you do is play Duel Monsters. I've been playing it for twenty-four hours straight and I'm pretty sure it's slowly liquefying my brain, but I'm addicted to it anyways. So here's the deal: I've beaten Yugi (not Yami/Atem), like, seventeen times now. And if you look at the Yugioh series finale, Yugi beats Atem fair and square to send him off to the afterlife, making Yugi the true king of games. So if I beat Yugi, does that mean _I'm_ the king of Card Games? I'd like your opinion. :/

Disclaimer: I dun own Yu-Gi-Oh. If I did, crap like this would be happening ALL ZE TIME-UH.

* * *

That same night, another figure also stole out of the palace.

He walked swiftly across the grounds, looking fitfully to each side. He dreaded, no—_knew _he was going to be caught, but still he clutched his shrouds closer to himself, keeping to the shadows as much as possible. He had to try. He would be gone only for a day, two at most. He needed to see what it was like, what life was like _out there._

"Playing hooky, pharaoh?"

He whirled around violently, his crimson eyes squinting as he tried to make out shapes in the shadows of the palace gardens. His heart hammered against his ribcage at a brutally fast pace, and idly he wondered if was about to give out under the stress. However, he only glared coolly out into the darkness, calling whomever had startled him out into the light in his most regal, commanding voice.

"Show yourself!" he barked in a no-nonsense tone.

The person only giggled cutely, and out of the shadows hopped a spritely girl a bit younger than the pharaoh. She smiled widely at him, rocking on the balls of her feet. Atem let out an audible breath, but continued to glare at her harshly.

"Mana. What are you doing here?" he asked seriously.

"I could ask the same to you," she commented insolently, but at the man's nasty look she giggled lightly and continued, "But the reason I'm here is really of no significance. Moonlit strolls among the gardens are one of my favorite pastimes. It helps me think. And the night is so beautiful, don't you agree?"

"Positively divine," the pharaoh replied dryly. Mana gave him a long look.

"So are you really playing hooky?" she asked, genuinely curious.

Atem felt an uncharacteristic surge of embarrassment flood his system, which in turn made a light blush appear on his cheeks. Thankfully, it wasn't visible in the moonlight, but he still felt self-conscious. "Promise you won't laugh?" he asked slowly.

Mana leaned forward, her blue-green eyes gleaming in anticipation. She crossed heart with her fingers. "Cross my heart and hope to die," she said seriously.

"I wanted to live a day among the commoners….You said you wouldn't laugh!"

Mana indeed was having an extremely hard time suppressing her snickers, having to go as far as to physically cover her mouth with her hands so as to keep them inside her throat. "I-I'm sorry my pharaoh," she snorted from behind her fingers. "B-but dressed like that?"

Atem looked down at his garments awkwardly, taking in the white of the linen and the gold of his jewelry with an uncomfortable eye. "What's wrong with them? These are the poorest clothes I have," he said honestly. It was true—he had dug all the way to the back of his vast wardrobe in order to find these; it was by far the roughest hewn linen he could locate among all his clothes. And the gold wasn't even pure gold, it was mixed with other metals to make it cheaper. And the sandals were the ones he had worn on that fateful day to the stables. His servants had washed them thoroughly, but he was sure they still stunk faintly of horse manure.

"If I may be so bold," the girl said, raising a doubtful eyebrow, "You're going to stick out like a sore thumb. You still have the look of a noble about you, and many of the commoners don't take to kindly to that."

Atem looked at her curiously. "Why not?" he asked.

"Because they collect the taxes, _duh._"

"Oh." Atem suddenly felt very foolish. Mana suddenly laid her hand on Atem's shoulder, squeezing it in a reassuring and affectionate manner. Atem suddenly felt very grateful. They had been friends since they were children, and what she had just communicated through that simple gesture endeared her to the pharaoh's heart more than ever. "You're not going to stop me," he stated.

Mana winked at him mischievously. "Stop you to do what?" she asked innocently, "Officially, I never saw you."

Atem smiled thankfully at her, turning on his heel with a gentle swish of his cloak. "Thank you, Mana," he whispered before taking off further into the night. Mana simply smiled sadly after him, before giggling to herself and skipping off in the other direction, humming quietly.

"Even pharaohs need a break sometimes," she said to no one in particular, taking some time to gaze thoughtfully at the moon.

She wished the pharaoh best of luck.

* * *

In the height of the morning the next day, the bazaar was once again lively and bustling. Vendors were vending, shoppers were shopping, dancers were dancing, and so on. The whole placed hummed with energy, as if it were one living, breathing beast perched on the river's edge, everything moving in sync the way it was supposed to. It was on this fine morning that Yugi once again found himself in a dark alleyway, Jounochi panting lightly at his side, practically thrumming in anticipation.

The boy's jewel-like eyes were glued onto his next target: a small melon stand on the other side of the street. Once the last paying customer left the stand, Yugi smiled lightly, looking down to his canine companion. He pointed discreetly to the stand.

"Okay, Jou, go!"

"Try this!" the melon vendor exclaimed passionately to the random passerby, trying his best to sell his wares, "Your taste buds will dance and sing! They will—" he was abruptly cut off by an extremely loud bark on the right of his stand.

Annoyed, he went over to check on the disturbance, not surprised to see that a dog was apparently freaking out for no particular reason other than to bother him. He set the melon he had been holding to display for the people down on the pile of other fruits, trying to shoo the hound away as best as he could.

"Go away, you mangy mutt! You're scaring off all my customers!" the melon man exclaimed angrily, trying to scare him off. The golden dog didn't halt in his incessant barking for even a second.

It was during this time when the vendor was distracted did Yugi discreetly pluck a melon from off the pile, coincidentally the same one the vendor had set down only moments ago. Yugi ran as fast as he could back to the alley, whistling sharply to alert Jounochi that he had accomplished the mission.

Jounochi abruptly stopped barking, startling the vendor into silence. The dog almost seemed to grin at the dumbfounded man for a moment before bouncing off back to the alley where Yugi hid with their prize.

"Good boy, Jou," Yugi cooed to the dog, petting the top of his head affectionately. He expertly broke the melon into two parts on his knee, handing one of the halves to Jounochi, who was looking at it hungrily. Yugi smiled. He had never met a dog who liked fruit before, but then again, Jounochi was special. He looked on in affection as the hound ravenously tore into the melon, eating it rind and all.

He took a bite out of the center, the cool juices of the flesh dripping down his chin. He had gotten lucky this time and had picked one of the sweetest off the pile. He lapped the liquid up with his pretty pink tongue, remarking good-humoredly, "Breakfast is served."

Meanwhile, up the street a little ways, was Atem, looking in openmouthed awe at the animated livelihood of the various street folk he passed. He had never seen so much energy in one place before. Nor the amount of happiness, either. He suddenly realized that the palace was a grim, serious place compared to this. He looked at various street vendors, surprised every time one boldly tried to accost him into buying one of their wares.

"Handsome sir, buy a pot!" one man had called a few stalls ago, displaying a fine array of clay pottery, "No finer pots in all of Thebes!" Or so he had claimed.

He dodged two small children that had been caught up under his feet, playing recklessly in the busy street as their mothers gossiped with a small group of women gathered under the shade of a palm. Each had a basket filled with fresh goods that were probably going to be contributing to dinner that night. Instantly, Atem wished he could remember his mother, who had died some years before.

He was shaken out of his reverie as a slimy fish was abruptly shoved in his face, thrust right under his nose so he could smell. "Fresh fish!" the vendor cried jovially at the pharaoh in disguise, making the man in question stumble backwards in shock. "We catch them, you buy 'em!"

Atem slowly backed away from the eager man, holding up his hand in a 0defensive manner. "Oh, not today, sorry…" he said, trying to placate the vendor. Not looking where he was going, he suddenly backed right into a passing woman, making them both trip and fall down, causing a small commotion around them.

His pharaoh instincts told him to brush her off and blame her for the incident; for as pharaoh he could do no wrong. But, before he could do anything, he remembered that today he was just a normal citizen. And the woman had so many groceries, all lying helter-skelter across the road. It was the least he could do…

Yugi looked up from his melon, surprised to see the small crowd that had gathered around two people near the entrance of the alley where he and his dog had stationed themselves. Jounochi looked up too, but being a dog he quickly lost interest and went back to his food. Yugi, however kept his eyes locked on the figures near the center of the crowd, getting a clearer view of them now that the people were starting to disperse. It was a man and a woman, and by the looks of it, the man had knocked over the woman's groceries, and was now helping her in gathering them up and putting them back in her basket.

The man's clothes were rich, and there was something about him that kept Yugi's interest, even after the rest of the population lost interest. He could see the woman thanking him as they gathered up the rest of her foodstuffs, going on her way and no doubt feeling very grateful that the rich young man had been so helpful and kind. The man waved a goodbye, before turning around to go the way he was going earlier, revealing the whole of his face to the observing boy.

Yugi sucked in a breath. He was beautiful.

They also looked remarkably similar. Although, the man was definitely taller than him (but most people were), and his complexion was much tanner and his features were much sharper (Yugi had never lost that bit of baby fat that made his face so cherubic and cute, much to his dismay), and the man had very nice, toned muscles, but the reason they looked so similar was because of the hair.

Yugi had always had startlingly unique hair. Golden bangs gently framed his face and eyes, and the rest of his hair was always in spikes, and was dark near the roots but turned slightly purple as it got near the ends. The man's hair was also like this, but had extra streaks of blonde and reddish hair near the ends.

This was all well and good, but the world seemed to stop when Yugi took a glimpse of his eyes.

_Oh, those eyes…._

They were the same from his dream. It had been a good dream, and he remembered eyes, glinting dangerously like rubies from under his fringe. Yugi blushed as he remembered some more of the details from that night. A very good dream, indeed….

"Oh my…" he breathed in awe, catching Jounochi's attention. The hound looked up once again, catching sight of both the man and Yugi's lovestruck expression. Jounochi growled protectively, nudging his friend into spending more time eating his breakfast and less time oogling some pretty stranger.

Atem walked cheerfully away from the lady, feeling good that he had helped someone other than himself for the first time in his life. The incredibly thankful look the woman had given him was a reward worth more than all the precious stones in Egypt.

Looking ahead, he immediately gazed upon a boy reaching helplessly for a fig at a stand where the vendor's back was turned. He felt pity for the poor boy, as he obviously had neither money nor the means with which to pay for the fig. Atem felt around his person, and instantly berated himself on being stupid enough to not bring any form of currency.

Looking carefully around him, he stepped behind the boy, grabbing the fig for which the lad was so desperately reaching for and handing it to him as sneakily as he was able. He smiled at the shocked and adoring look the small boy had given him at this action, but frowned when it suddenly became fearful at some unknown terror behind him.

Atem suddenly felt something lurch in his chest as his wrist was roughly grabbed and he was forcibly spun around, coming nose to nose with the angry fig vendor.

"I hope you have the money to pay for that, mister," the man said threateningly. Atem's nose crinkled as the man's foul breath washed over his face. "Nobody steals from _my_ cart!"

"I-I'm sorry," the disguised pharaoh stammered, "but the boy—" He tried jerking his wrist out of the vendor's iron hold, but it was to no avail. The man had a grip of steel, and obviously had much more physical strength than the pharaoh, if the corded muscles in his arms were anything to go by.

"Do you have anything to pay with?" the vendor demanded, making his grip impossibly tighter.

For the first time since he could remember, Atem actually felt the very real rush of fear flushing through his system. Desperately trying to keep a level head, he winced out a small, "No—"

"_Thief!_" the vendor cried out angrily for everyone on the street to hear it.

Atem, in an effort of self preservation, started babbling in order to stall the man, internally berating himself as he heard detachedly what came out of his mouth. "Please!"—oh, he hated using that word—"I-if you let me go the palace, I can get money from the Pharaoh—!" Well, at least he didn't totally blow his cover.

Yugi looked up from his mostly-eaten melon once again, only to panic as he saw the beautiful man from before being tugged to the stand, his wrist forcibly slammed down on a bare spot on the counter. His eyes widened as the vendor produced a large, wicked looking knife. Yugi, very used to the hazards of the marketplace, knew exactly what it was for.

Atem, on the other hand, was extremely surprised when his hand was slammed down on the counter, only to suddenly become very fearful as the knife came out in the open. It finally clicked in his mind. The man leaned close to his face once again. "Do you know what the penalty is for thieves with greedy hands?" he hissed menacingly, raising the knife high in the air with a flourish, the silver metal of the blade glinting fiendishly in the blazing hot sunlight.

Atem's crimson eyes were open wide with panic, the only comprehensible words he could utter being a horrified "No, please!"

"Wait!" a soft voice suddenly rang out, startling the vendor long enough to pause in his downward stroke. A slender youth, maybe a couple years younger than Atem, inserted himself in between the vendor and the pharaoh, plucking the knife easily out of the man's now lax grip. He handed it off to Atem so he could shake the vendor's hand enthusiastically.

"Thank you, kind sir, for finding him!" the stranger said, before turning to Atem, who had by this time set down the knife so it lay harmlessly on the stall counter. He wagged his dainty finger at the stunned pharaoh.

"I've been looking all over for you!" he admonished, reaching one thin arm around his back so as to lead him a few steps down the street. Atem looked at the younger boy uncertainly, whispering, "What are you doing?" The boy playfully winked at him.

"Just play along," he said conspirationally.

The vendor leaned forward, grabbing Yugi by the shoulder, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

"You… know this man?" he asked, uncertain. Yugi let go of Atem and turned to the vendor, giving out a mournful sigh.

"Sadly, yes: He is my brother," Yugi said, touching the man's arm. He leaned in close to the fig vendor and did a little circular motion near his ear. "He's a little touched in the head, if you know what I mean!" he staged whispered. Atem huffed and looked indignant.

The vendor could not deny the resemblance between the two. But out of suspicion, he grabbed Yugi aggressively by the front of his tunic, hauling the boy up so he was standing on his tip-toes.

"He said he knew the pharaoh!" the man spat to Yugi's face.

Yugi let out a nervous laugh—he was scared out of his mind! He had no idea what possessed him to come to this man's rescue. It was very out of character for him, but this pull the beautiful man had on him was too strong to ignore, and it made him act without thinking. And now he was going to pay the price if he didn't pull this off.

Thinking quickly, he spotted Jou, who was growling menacingly at the vendor as if daring him to do anything more to the boy. Yugi jerked his head toward the dog, giving the vendor a telling look. The man looked at the dog, confused. He looked back at Yugi.

"He thinks the _dog_ is the pharaoh," Yugi explained carefully. He gave a subtle glance in the direction of Atem, who had been listening in on entire short conversation. Atem quickly caught on, and elaborately prostrated himself on the ground before the hound.

"Oh wise and holy Pharaoh, human incarnation of Horus," the pharaoh said in an almost unnecessarily reverent fashion, "How may this lowly human serve you?" Atem was internally sniggering at himself, mostly because he was privately parodying the way many of the servants of the palace practically worshipped the ground he walked on.

Jounochi looked helplessly confused, sniffing curiously at Atem's red, gold, and black hair as many people in the crowd that had gathered started to laugh. Yugi gave his "brother" a pitying look. He looked out of the corner of his eye to the vendor, who miraculously actually believed the act. Yugi decided to wrap it up.

"Tragic, isn't it? If only he hadn't spent so much time out in the sun when he was younger," he said wistfully, starting to walk over to the still prostrate Atem. "But, no harm done! Really, what is the difference one fig will make? Now, come along brother, it's time to see the doctor!"

Yugi helped Atem up, leading him by the small of his back. Atem kept in character, making his face cheerfully vacant. Jounochi clipped along closely behind them, keeping on Yugi's heels. Once they got far enough down the street, Yugi suddenly grabbed the elder's hand, a huge smile breaking out over his face. He let out a deep breath, as if he had been holding it the whole time he had rescued Atem from the fig vendor.

"Oh Ra!" he exclaimed, his voice full of joy, gripping Atem's hand tightly. "I can't believe we pulled that off!"

Atem let out a breath also, taking a good look at his rescuer for the first time. Like Yugi, he was struck by the beauty of the male in front of him. He suddenly became very aware of the small, dainty little hand holding his with a light blush.

"Y-yeah," he said, extracting his hand from the smaller boy's. He looked at the vendor who was back to selling figs as if nothing had happened. He felt his breath suddenly leave his lungs with a whoosh, and he abruptly became very dizzy.

"I think I need to sit down," he said, leaning heavily on the smaller body next to him.

The boy was warm, he noted with a sigh. Such a welcoming warmth…. He wound an arm around the smaller boy's shoulders, reveling in the sparks that passed between them as bare flesh met bare flesh. They both felt it, looking at each other before quickly averting their gazes. Yugi noted in alarm at how pallid the male's skin was, and he quickly ducked into yet another back alley, out of the sun.

He set Atem gently down on the ground, feeling his forehead to see if he had a fever, which he thankfully didn't. Yugi figured it was just the shock of the event beforehand taking its toll.

He sat down next to the man, who had turned his head to observe the boy. Yugi turned to him, smiling in a friendly manner. "So, uh, this is your first time in the bazaar, isn't it?" he asked casually.

Atem chuckled good-naturedly. "Is it that obvious?" he asked teasingly.

Yugi's face suddenly flamed in a blush. "Well, uh, you kind of….stand out."

The pharaoh ruffled Yugi's spiked locks playfully, laughing at the incredibly cute expression on the younger boy's face. Atem's focus was suddenly caught by how prettily the light glinted off of Yugi's amethyst-like eyes, and about how pouty those plump lips looked…. He suddenly shook his head to rid himself of those thoughts, opting to say, albeit flirtatiously, "I could say the exact same about you, Little One."

Yugi's face only became redder as his expression became meek, both at the compliment and the pet name. Yugi found he was suddenly at a loss for words. Atem decided to continue.

"I want to thank you for rescuing me," he remarked, his voice flowing like velvet, "You were very brave…I doubt even the Pharaoh wouldn't be impressed by your efforts."

"Th-thank you," the boy said humbly, hiding his face. The pharaoh lifted his chin up, gazing softly into the boy's round, seraphic face with fondness. Atem couldn't recall a time he felt so attracted to another person before. He chuckled to himself. Today was a day of a lot of firsts….

"What's so funny?"

Atem smiled at the boy. "Nothing. I was merely wondering why anybody would hide a face as pretty as yours." He suddenly leaned in close and for one heart-breaking moment Yugi was certain the man was going to kiss him. But rather than kiss him, Atem merely wiped away a smudge that had appeared on the boy's cheek with his thumb. He could already feel a deep affection growing for this boy, and surprisingly he wasn't doing anything to stop this from happening.

_And from the looks of it_, Atem thought with a smirk as he gauged Yugi's tomato-like blush, _I think the little one may be feeling the same way_. _Time can only tell._

He was suddenly hit by a wave of sadness as he realized that time was the only thing he didn't have. He was the Pharaoh; he couldn't be gone for more than a day, two at the most.

He looked at the boy. Yugi was petting his dog lightly on the head, a small smile playing unconsciously on his lips. Atem suddenly felt such a fierce possessiveness at that moment that quite frankly it scared him. He didn't know why, but on some primal level Atem was sure he wanted to keep this boy for his own, forever.

Alas, they only had one day.

The pharaoh was sure to make the most of it. And the fastest way to make the boy his was… Atem shivered in delight at the prospect.

Seduce him.

* * *

Review or the King of Card Games shall smite you! (Ha, not really... maybe.)


	5. V Rooftop

D: I am so exhausted. I just went back to school. I swear my brain will at any minute turn to jello if I stay awake for much longer. So I'm going to make this short and go to bed.

I don't know about the first part of this chapter. :( I think I pay too much attention to Marik and Malik. But there's some nice Blindshipping in the next part :)

**Disclaimer**: I just... don't own it. Yeah. You heard me right. I don't own it.

* * *

"With all due respect, brother; could this spot of yours be any more out of the way? We've been walking for _hours._"

"Save your breath, Malik dearest. We have only a couple more meters to go."

Malik sighed irritably. They had been walking along the riverbank ever since last night. Now, it had to be at least midday. Marik had been leading them to an undisclosed location, ordering his younger brother to get up and walk right after the activities of the night before.

_The night before_, Malik mused, a mirthless smile playing on his lips as he thought about the passion that had transpired between him and his twin. He frowned pensively, considering the coldness his brother treated him with directly after dominating him ruthlessly against the palace wall.

He usually would have been okay with that, if he knew for certain where he himself stood on the issue. The problem was that he didn't know how he felt about it—whether if it was just sex or something… more. He inwardly groaned as he tried to untangle the knot of emotions that had gathered at the pit of his stomach, making his heart ache painfully. He knew for certain that Marik thought it was only sex, nothing more.

The problem was… did Malik want it to be "only sex"?

The younger blonde-haired twin sniffed despondently, desperately trying to forget about it for the moment. Alas, the pain in his lower back was doing nothing to help him do that.

Marik came to an abrupt halt, causing the spacing-out Malik to crash right into his back. Marik threw a scathing look over his shoulder. Malik met his stare with a slight glare of his own.

"We're here," the elder brother stated.

Malik looked around. "This is it?" he asked in genuine surprise. There was nothing here! The only thing that even remotely caught his interest was a cluster of palm trees arranged in a semicircle a couple yards off the bank of the river, to which Marik was now steadily heading towards. Malik walked briskly after him, keeping close to Marik's back as they headed for the cluster of palms.

As they got closer, Malik had to admit that he sensed something…off about the area. It was as if the air tasted richer, heavier almost. It was a flavor he could taste right on the tip of his tongue, but could not name.

"Brother, why are we here?"

Marik ignored him and did a once over of the area. There was not another living soul in sight.

He took in a deep draught of the dark, weighty air and sighed heavily in pleasure. His expression turned half lidded, and a fond smile broke out across the planes of his face. The elder blonde laid one bronze hand on the center palm tree. He stood in silence for a couple moments, merely breathing in the strange atmosphere.

"I have missed this place," he said finally. He did so quietly, almost reverently. "It is one of the thin spots, where the divider between this dimension and the Realm of Darkness has worn skinny over the millennia." He took out the Millennium Rod and considered it contemplatively. "This is why we're here, so we can use this place's dark magic to give the Rod its needed amplification to fuel the uses we need it for."

Malik swallowed thickly, giving Marik a hesitant nod. He didn't like the feeling this place was giving him—it was cold and dark and evil and wicked in every sense of the word. No, Malik didn't like it one bit, but Marik seemed to be drunk on it, thriving in the malevolently sinister magic surrounding them.

Marik looked giddily at Malik, beckoning him to join him in the middle of the clearing. Malik felt off balance by his twin's sudden mood swings, figuring that it must be the area doing this to him.

"Let's get to business, shall we?" he said in a no-nonsense tone, suddenly very serious. He extended his arm so that the Rod was held at arm's length from his body. The air around them suddenly seemed to still, and the world got very, very quiet. Malik was only aware of his own breathing, which was the only thing informing him that he was still alive.

Somewhere only outside his realm of consciousness did he hear Marik mutter something in an ancient language, letting go of the Rod so it plunged straight up and down into the dirt, the eye on the top of the Rod facing away from them. It seemed to do so in slow motion.

Marik started chanting in the ancient language, and the shadows seemed to lengthen, all heading toward the Rod staked solidly into the dirt.

The atmosphere suddenly seemed stifling, and leaving Malik to have difficulty breathing.

The cold, dark feeling increased tenfold in the pit of his stomach, traveling upwards toward his throat and up to his head. It seemed to form hands, wrapping around his brain and squeezing, making Malik feel like his head was about to implode from the pressure. He gripped his head tightly, wanting the pain to stop, his mouth gaping to let out a loud, anguished scream.

Alas, he could not find the air to do so. His lungs started to burn and he felt himself slowly floating away… up, up into the sky… past the downy softness of the clouds, straight into the sun, every cell in his body screaming in agony as they slowly burnt—

He was immediately grounded as a hand landed heavily on his shoulder, the person to who it belonged to panting harshly beside him. Malik's eyes flew open. He desperately gasped for breath, his lungs singing in relief as they filled with nice, fresh air. He gave out a couple of violent coughs, swallowing his saliva in order to quench his parched throat. His heart hammered in his chest.

Whatever _that_ had been, it had felt horrible, even if it only lasted an instant. He rubbed his temples with a vengeance, trying to stave off the impending migraine he knew he was going to get.

"You felt it, didn't you?" Marik asked, his voice rough and heavy, and laden with sated desire. Malik's head snapped up, but then felt slightly nauseated at the sudden action.

"The ecstasy of flying," the elder continued, "…Of having your head being sucked inwards. I felt it too, you know. Amazing, wasn't it?"

"…Br-brother…What was that?" Malik asked, not trusting his voice.

"It was the Shadow Realm, Malik," Marik said. "Only a taste, of it, though. To be fully immersed in it would destroy us both from pleasure. I needed to call upon it to fuel the Rod."

"Wh-where did you learn how to do that?"

Marik looked at his brother with the upmost seriousness, gripping both of his lithe shoulders. Malik almost shied away from the intense emotion that danced in his elder's purple irises.

"There was a reason I was banished, Malik," he said solemnly. "You have to know mortals fear what they perceive as evil. I happened to embrace it, and for that I was exiled." He leaned close to his brother's face now, forcing him into staring deep into his eyes. "I wanted to share this with you, my brother, so I could educate you. So you can rule when the kingdom of mortals fall and a new age begins, one ruled by the Shadow Realm and the Enlightened."

He embraced his brother tightly, his tall, muscular form totally eclipsing Malik's smaller, supple one.

"I do it to protect you."

Malik was stunned for a moment, before he twined his arms tightly around his brother's neck. He pressed a kiss to Marik's unsuspecting lips, burrowing his face in the crook of his neck. "Thank you," he breathed, tears starting to well up in his pretty lilac eyes.

Marik smirked menacingly, resting his chin on Malik's shoulder. "Don't mention it. Now, we have work to do." He quickly detached himself from the younger, looking down to the Rod. The gold gleamed ethereally, and dark spurts of energy crackled around the head. Marik grinned triumphantly, calling out in his most commanding voice:

"Millennium Rod! Show to me the one who can enter the Cave!"

An image was suddenly projected from the eye of the Rod. It was of a boy, and for second Malik thought it to be the Pharaoh. But after a second look he saw that he only looked remarkably similar to the king. Marik's grin turned snide as he took in the boy's fragile form and physique.

"So this is the whelp that can enter the Cave of Wonders? Well then, my diamond in the rough, we shall be meeting _very_ soon." He glanced back to Malik, who only stared numbly at the projection. Marik cleared his throat.

Malik looked at him, broken out of his daze. "Right," he said, "I'll have the guards pay him a visit."

The elder twin looked back to the projection, and saw something that immediately sparked his interest. He watched for a moment. Suddenly, Marik laughed evilly, scooping his surprised brother up and swinging him around in a circle. He set Malik back down on the ground dizzily, rubbing his hands together in a sinister fashion.

"Excellent."

* * *

"You live this far away from the city?"

Yugi looked at his companion sheepishly, shrugging his shoulders. "This area used to be very populated back before the plague hit," he explained, keeping in step with the disguised pharaoh as they walked up the hill that led to Yugi's dwelling. "I stay here because my house is the only reminder of my family that I have."

Atem immediately felt like a jerk for even bringing it up. He took Yugi's hand in apology. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up."

"It's fine," Yugi said quickly, at once removing his hand from the other male's with a blush.

It had started right after Yugi had saved him from the fig vendor. This stranger had insisted that he follow Yugi around all throughout the marketplace, claiming that such a knowledgeable person would be the perfect candidate for showing him around town. Yugi had been happy to oblige, and the man made for a great conversationalist, even if his speech was a little formal and Yugi didn't know what some of the larger words he used meant. But, all throughout the day the man had been standing a little _too_ close, touching him too much for it to simply be casual.

However, despite these subtle passes, their banter hadn't been forced at any point throughout the day, and Yugi could feel his attraction for this man growing and growing as each minute passed, so it's not like these advances were particularly unwelcome.

It just made Yugi very, very confused.

The man was rich—anyone could have told you that at first glance. And that made Yugi wonder what a man of his wealth could possibly want with a poor, underfed street-rat such as him. The amethyst-eyed boy enjoyed the crimson-eyed man's company immensely, but he had been brought up to think that all nobles and wealthy men of status had some ulterior motive, just like all of the other commoners living in Thebes had been taught. And though the boy wanted to trust his companion, it made him suspicious, especially when the man insisted that he see where the boy lived.

Atem took a sidelong glance at Yugi, who seemed to be deep in thought. The pharaoh reflected on the day that they had shared together. It was one of his best, the pharaoh decided, thinking back to the tour Yugi had given him of the bazaar. It was all so wonderful! The sights! The smells! The people!

But none were as wonderful as the company the little one provided. Oh no, if he could, Atem would whisk him away to the palace in a heartbeat. He could marry him and then proceed to spoil him rotten, showering him with the finest gold and jewels and the juiciest fruit his servants could find. And after that he could take him by the hand and lead him to his chambers where they could proceed to make sweet—

He was startled out of his fantasy as his guide shyly cleared his throat. He suddenly noticed that they had made it to the top of the hill, where a ludicrously small flat was perched. Jounochi had already gone inside through a heavy wool curtain that served as a door.

Yugi gauged the almost appalled expression Atem regarded his house with, which resulted in him embarrassedly shuffling his feet in the arid dirt. He made a vague gesture in the direction of the one-story dwelling, muttering, "Uh, yeah. It's not much, but this is where I live."

There was a moment of awkward silence—the first of the day.

"I-it's so… so… _quaint_," the pharaoh said finally. He was aghast at the thought that a being as beautiful and flawless as Yugi was had to live in such poor conditions. Did _other_ people live like this too…?

Almost as if he had read his mind, Yugi sighed. "It's better than nothing. Some people in the inner-city don't even have homes."

Atem, frankly, was horrified. He would have to make a note to do something about that once he got back to the palace…

He was shocked out of his reverie by a small hand tightly closing around his own larger one, and he, startled, looked down into determined violet eyes.

"Come on," the boy said, tugging the pharaoh through the curtain-door and up the narrow stepladder that led up to the flat-top roof. "It may not look like much to you rich folk, but it has the best view in all of Thebes."

Yugi threw open the trap-door in the ceiling that led to the roof and climbed up, Atem following closely after him. The pharaoh's breath was promptly stolen away as he took in the image that the view provided. It was an amazing sight. A picture of the palace backed up against the Nile, and the mountains further west glowing purple against the sunset.

The gods were putting on a show, and for the first time in his life, the pharaoh noticed it.

He sat down next to Yugi, who was sitting cross-legged and leaning on one of his hands, gazing longingly at the home of the pharaoh.

"The palace looks beautiful tonight, huh?"

Atem took a sidelong glance at his beautiful companion, a wave of sadness washing over him as he remembered the fact that he would have to be going back there soon, and therefore leaving this amazing person.

"It's wonderful," Atem said, not sounding the most sincere. Yugi seemed to ignore him though, continuing with his train of thought.

"You know, this is silly, but I always wondered what it would be like to live there—as the pharaoh, I mean. You would have servants, valets… not that I would really need any. I would go crazy if I wasn't able to do anything…"

Atem scoffed. "Sure, people will throw themselves at your feet in worship, only looking at the crown you wear and not your face." Yugi only smiled, scooting over and leaning so his head was resting on Atem's shoulder.

"It's better than here," he said, matter-of-factly. "Always scraping for food and ducking the guards, who treat you less than dirt."

"People there don't know you for who you are… you're not free to make your own choices, or make any mistakes," Atem ranted.

"Sometimes you feel as if you're not entirely… human," they concluded at the same time. The two males looked at each other in surprise.

Slowly, smiles broke out on both their faces. Yugi took his head off of Atem's shoulder, and Atem covered Yugi's hand with his. They looked at each other softly. Slowly, inch by agonizing inch, they leaned their faces toward each other, eyelids fluttering shut. Smooth lips met petal soft ones in a painfully chaste kiss.

Yugi was the first to detach, looking the pharaoh solemnly in the face. Atem's crimson eyes fluttered open, only to close as he leaned in for another kiss. He was stopped by Yugi's finger on his lips.

"Why are you doing this," he whispered beseechingly his eyes searching his partner's face as if all the answers were written on his forehead. "What can one as perfect and wealthy as you want with a poor, dirty boy like me?" Atem gripped Yugi's hand tightly, almost to the point of pain. His other hand traveled upwards to cup Yugi's cheek tenderly, stroking the impossibly soft skin there with his thumb.

"I am not perfect," the disguised Pharaoh corrected matter-of-factly. "Nor are you dirty. I did not come to the bazaar today looking for wealth; I came for companionship. And I found you, Little One. And I think the gods have blessed me unjustly, for you are ten times more perfect than I."

Yugi looked down, trying to hide the enormous blush that stained his cheeks at the man's flattery.

"Um… are you trying to seduce me?" He said it jokingly and looked up, only to be startled silent by the look of pure intensity that radiated from his companion's smoldering ruby eyes.

"So what if I am?" the pharaoh whispered huskily. The street-rat struggled for words, only before Atem thought he was taking too long and promptly lunged forward, capturing Yugi's soft lips with his own once again.

Yugi fell backwards in surprise, his companion continuing to kiss him like there was no tomorrow as he landed on top of the poor boy. His mind was a jumbled mess as he tried to sort out all of the emotions spiraling in his head, before a more primal part of his being woke up and grumpily kicked them all out the window, forcing Yugi to focus on the strongest of them: Lust.

Yugi moaned and responded fervently, his eyes slipping closed as he buried his fingers in the man's soft locks. Atem coaxed the younger boy's mouth open, his tongue plunging in to taste all of what his partner had to offer. He tasted delicious, better than the sweetest honeyed dates.

Hands roamed up and down Yugi's lean body, memorizing all the planes and dips and ridges. His fingers ghosted over Yugi's slightly protruding ribs, making the boy giggle into his mouth. Atem smirked, and continued to tease the ticklish spot.

They parted for breath, the pharaoh panting and the street-rat laughing as Atem continued to tickle his ribs. The pharaoh grinned widely as he did so, planting chaste kisses all over Yugi's face, and eventually across his jaw and down to his throat. He nibbled on the pulse point there, his heart beating in time with that of the boy's. He started sucking, marking the pale skin with a dark purple hickey.

Eventually, Yugi stopped laughing and started to groan in pleasure at the attention and affection his partner laved to the spot, his hands returning to the pharaoh's hair to keep him from stopping. Atem only smirked and planted one last kiss to the spot before pulling his head up to admire the bruise.

He pressed a kiss to the boy's lips, gathering his small form in his toned arms and holding him close. He buried his nose into his partner's hair, opting to just lay in companionable silence for the moment.

It was during that moment of peace that a loud bark was heard from downstairs before it was cut off abruptly, and the trap-door to the roof was smashed open, splintering on contact, the loud noise badly startling the two males and sending them to their feet. Their eyes widened in shock as palace guards started to pour through the opening, their spears aimed to kill at the two males. The guards backed them to the edge of the roof, waiting as the last of the guard, the captain, came through the opening.

His hair was long and dark, and his skin pale, like Yugi's. His green eyes widened as he took in the sight of the man standing protectively in front of the boy, the one he was sent to capture. There was a moment of absolute silence before he suddenly bowed low. Many of the other guards, recognizing the man also, did so too. Yugi looked on in astonishment as Atem pulled himself up to his full height, his chin up in a regal manner. He glared death at the pale, green-eyed man.

"Captain Otogi. What business do you have here?"

Otogi shuddered nervously at the mere aura of the pharaoh, and he clenched his hands into fists as they started to sweat.

"I'm sorry, my pharaoh, I wasn't aware that you were here. But we have orders to arrest that boy."

At the word "pharaoh", Yugi's eyes widened even more and he went deathly pale, detaching himself from Atem and started backing slowly away far away as possible, the guards' spear tips following his every move.

"N-no," he stuttered, his throat suddenly very dry and quaking in fear, "Y-you can't be… You're the _pharaoh?_"

Yugi's expression was blank for a moment, and Atem was hopeful for a moment. He despaired as the little one suddenly bowed very low, nearly prostrating himself on the ground. "Little One…" he tried to say, but he was cut off by Yugi's muffled apology.

"May the gods have mercy on my _ka _for the offense I committed today," he said shakily.

Atem was crushed, his expression defining the word anguish for one long moment.

"No, Little One… I'm still me…" he tried, but stopped when he realized Yugi wasn't going to listen to a word he said now that he knew who he really was. His expression hardened an exponential amount, turning the full force of his malicious glare on Otogi, who quailed at the pure hatred his king radiated.

"On who's orders should he be arrested, Otogi?! On what terms?!" he demanded icily.

The captain cleared his throat fretfully, unfurling a papyrus scroll he had procured from his belt. "The orders come from Malik, y-your Majesty," he informed, scanning the hieroglyphs that were painted on the page, "And the offenses include thievery, disturbing the peace, and… and…"

"And _what?!_" Atem spat, positively livid.

"…And kidnapping his majesty, the Pharaoh Atem."

* * *

Review and I shall have pleasant dreams for the rest of my life. :)


	6. VI Bad News

_**PLEASE READ THIS:**_

Um. Yeah. Hi.

This is awkward. I took the whole school year off. Nine months. I can't express how sorry I am through words. I expect you've all sort of abandoned this, but I had this sitting in my computer for quite a while, burning a hole through my hard drive.

I guess I could say my excuse is that I just got accepted into a very demanding, very work oriented place of learning. It was wildly different from my last institution, and I found the transition to be hard. All my courses are honors level, and I often have two or three projects going on at the same time. It's not that I didn't have free time, it's just that when I did have it, my social life, personal obligations, and school-year long case of writer's block got in the way of me continuing with this story.

So I've come to appease you with this. Now that summer has started, I've noticed an influx of readership. That has inspired me to put something out, if only to make myself feel better. Hopefully I will be able to continue with this, seeing how this story isn't even halfway through, and if I'm not, that would be a shame. I really enjoy writing this and I really enjoy making my few, precious readers happy. I'm sorry to say that this chapter isn't terribly interesting. Nothing extremely pertinent happens. Hopefully by the end of the week I will have another chapter, written hastily in between studying for finals.

Thank you. I enjoy feedback, whether it be constructive criticism or you screaming at me about how terrible I have been to you. I give my sincerest apologies, both for my lateness and the dullness of this chapter.

**_Disclaimer_**: I do not own Yu-gi-oh. URRRRRRRGH. Blah.

* * *

It had been a horrifically awful day for Isis Ishtar, a priestess in the Pharaoh's court.

She was tired, hungry, stressed, and most of all pissed off as hell—mostly at the Pharaoh, who had been AWOL all day. For what she knew, Pharaoh Atem had gone to bed last night, same as he did every night, but had disappeared by morning, no traces of him anywhere left inside the palace. This had sent everyone—absolutely _everyone_, down to the most insignificant harem girl—into a full blown panic.

Literally everyone had to help in the search for the missing royalty. And since the priests and priestesses were only two spots lower on the totem pole of authority from the King himself, of course she had to drop all of her regular responsibilities and lead a whole squadron of servants in scouring the palace for any trace of the Pharaoh. If she had to listen to one more servant complain for the rest of the week, she swore she was going to strangle somebody—preferably Atem.

There was another person, she had noticed, that also was missing in action for the better part of the day. Of course nobody else had noticed he was gone, even if he was the Pharaoh's second Vizier. Heck, she wouldn't have noticed it either if he hadn't been her only (well, not only… but _he _was long gone off into the desert) younger brother.

But even so, it made her very suspicious.

So she wasn't surprised when Malik had paraded back into the frantic castle like he had just conquered the whole world, spewing nonsense about how he knew the location of the lost pharaoh.

But she _was_ surprised when he had claimed that king had been kidnapped. Most of the higher-ups aiding in the search (such as herself) had just thought that their sometimes mischievous and most of the time very annoying ruler was just playing an elaborate joke on the palace because he had been bored these past couple of weeks, not caring about the consequences because he was just that self-centered. Isis had wanted to corner her brother and pry information out of him right then and there, but he had been too involved in writing out an official document iterating the orders of the kidnapper's arrest and handing it off to Otogi Ryuuji, the captain of the guard.

After that, her brother had disappeared off to who-knows-where, still leaving Isis with thousands of questions and not a single answer. By this point of time, she had been feeling very abused.

Her irritation and hatred for this day only worsened when the Pharaoh was practically dragged kicking and screaming and generally throwing a hissy fit into the throne room by two burly (albeit reluctant) guards. Before any of the council members gathered in the chamber could even draw breath to utter a single word, Atem had all but snarled at them to leave him to his thoughts.

Which brings her to where she was now: hungry, pissed off, practically a zombie, and waiting ever so patiently outside the Pharaoh's doors while he stormed out the rest of his temper tantrum in peace. She inwardly seethed at the selfishness of the Pharaoh, angrily straightening her white dress out of habit. What did he expect them to do? Twiddle their thumbs and wait for him to finish?

The six priests and priestesses of the Court (Mana had been conspicuously absent all day) all looked at each other uncomfortably, sort of at a loss for words after such an exhausting day. It was a heavy, pregnant silence, pressing down on all of their tired shoulders.

Suddenly:

"Maybe we should send somebody in there. You know—to talk to him."

Isis wasn't sure who had suggested it.

"Is that really wise?" asked Shaada, holder of the Millennium Ankh. "The Pharaoh's word is law, and he specifically asked not to be disturbed."

"More like screamed at us to get the fuck out," Seto muttered irately, crossing his arms angrily. Nobody commented on his blatant lack of disrespect, even out of the pharaoh's presence. Being the pharaoh's cousin brought certain privileges.

"It could be beneficial," Mahaado mused, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "The Pharaoh might seem reluctant at first, but he might appreciate a sympathetic ear, even if all he does is scream. But we'd have to send in a person with tact, and grace."

"That rules out about half of us," Karim remarked dryly.

Akhenaden, uncle to the Pharaoh and holder of the Millennium Eye suddenly turned his asymmetrical gaze onto the one priestess of the group, looking thoughtful for a moment.

"We should send in Isis," the man said, smirking slightly. "She's a woman, which means she's good with this emotional business. And she's got tact and grace and all those other feminine things."

All of the other men in the group looked thoughtful, before nodding and murmuring their agreement. Isis, for one, bristled angrily.

_How _dare_ they,_ the blue-eyed woman thought angrily, her hands clenching and unclenching at her sides,_ Just because I'm a woman doesn't automatically mean—_

Her train of thought was promptly derailed as Mahaado gently touched her arm, sending her a pleading look with soft gray eyes. She was caught up in a mental battle for about a minute before her already stress-cracked resolve crumbled.

"Alright," she said with a haggard sigh, "I'll do it."

She went up to stand uncomfortably at the door, everyone standing behind her. She stood there for a couple minutes, not really doing anything. Somebody behind her loudly cleared their throat, telling her to get on with it. She took a deep breath and steeled herself, knocking lightly on the door.

* * *

Pharaoh Atem sat silently on his throne, deep in thought.

"_These orders are non-negotiable, my Lord. You're going to have to take it up with Malik."_

Otogi had said that. But how could Malik have known where he was? The only possible explanation could have been one of the guards in the bazaar had recognized him, and had jumped to conclusions when he saw him sticking to the Little One like glue, and therefore reported it to Malik. He had no idea what had become of his unfortunate companion. His heart ached at the thought of the boy being locked away in the cold, dark prison cells underground.

His eyes widened in horror as a particularly morbid thought formed in his mind.

_What if he was already dead?_

Atem quickly shook his head, guilt (_So this is what it feels like_, Atem thought detatchedly) gnawing away at the pit of his stomach and at the walls of his heart. No. There was no way he had been killed. Not yet anyway. There were so many things he didn't know about the boy! The pharaoh didn't know what he liked, who is family used to be, or even how old he was. He didn't… he didn't…

His head shot up as a terrifying truth made itself known to him. He didn't even know the little one's _name._

Something hot prickled at the back of his exotic crimson eyes. A lump formed in his throat, and his gut twisted into convoluted and complex knots that not even the most skilled of sailors could have untangled.

_I_'_m crying_, he noted with dismay. He was not sobbing, the gravity of the situation numbing every part of him except for the use of his tear ducts. _I just called him 'Little One' all day_, he realized, thumbing away his tears. _I guess I never saw the need to call him anything else. He seemed just fine with it…_ The image of the boy's face rose unbidden to his mind, succeeding in making Atem grimace.

Suddenly there was a small knock—barely audible, but definitely a knock—at the throne room doors. The pharaoh blinked and his tears were gone, and prayed to all the gods he could think of in that very moment that his eyes weren't red (well, redder, anyway). He took a second to regain his composure before addressing the person who had knocked.

"Enter," he commanded, feeling marginally proud that there was little tremor in his usually very regal voice. There was a second of hesitation before the door revealed a much frazzled Isis, who quickly lost all look of exhaustion when she saw the utterly broken look on the king's face. She shut the door quickly behind her, all but running to prostrate herself in front of the king's throne.

"My pharaoh," she murmured respectfully, sympathy and genuine concern leeching into her tone, "what ails you so?"

Atem grimaced. "Is it that obvious, Isis?"

"With all due respect, my Lord, it is. Do you want to… talk about it?"

In all honesty, the pharaoh really did want to talk to somebody about it. He really did want to cry and scream and rant to somebody about how he felt that day.

"No. Thank you, though."

But he was the pharaoh, and he couldn't afford to show any more weakness as it was. A weak ruler reflects a weak nation; that's just how it is.

Isis looked up, keeping her blue eyes respectfully averted. "There must be something I can do!" she said, eager to help for the first time that day now that she realized something was truly bothering him. Atem was not only her king, but also one of her closest friends. She stood up in front of him, ready and raring to go despite the exhaustion that was continually sapping her strength.

Atem's eyes widened as an idea struck him. "Yes, there _is_ actually something you can do," he said, taking in her willing expression with upmost gratitude. "There was a boy your brother, Malik, arrested when Captain Otogi's platoon found me in town today. I believe he may have gotten some misinformation that that boy had somehow kidnapped me. I would like you to ask your brother what happened to that boy, and that on the Pharaoh's orders to let him go." Atem's expression darkened considerably when talking about his second vizier.

Isis stood, mystified for a moment. Delicately, she laid her hand tentatively on the pharaoh's shoulder, her fear of retribution only outmatched by her concern for Atem's wellbeing. "My pharaoh… I don't understand. What concern do you have for one insignificant street boy?"

The look Atem fixed her with right after she said that rightly broke her heart. It was one of such guilt, of such heartache—she had never seen anything even remotely like it on the pharaoh's face before. Her chest ached even further when Atem took the hand she had laid on her shoulder, squeezing it tightly.

"I don't rightly know myself, actually. But please, Isis. This is not an order, this is a request. Not even from the pharaoh—no, I'm asking you as a friend. You're one of my closest friends, Isis. So please do this, for me."

Any resolve Isis had left crumbled right then and there, and with reckless abandon she threw her arms around the pharaoh, hugging him tightly. "I will, I will," she sobbed, for she was crying now. She said it over and over, and it was all Atem could do to stiffly embrace her back in fathomless gratitude, dry-eyed, chanting a mantra of his own.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you."

* * *

Isis had left the room soon after that, wiping her eyes as she closed the doors behind her. She breezed right by her comrades, ignoring their concerned questions about what horrible thing Atem had said in his anger to make their usually unshakable and rather quite prickly female member cry like that. (What nice friends.)

She marched purposefully down the palace corridors, heading straight to where she knew her brother would be.

The priestess threw open the door to her brother's chambers violently, rattling the wall behind it.

"_Malik!_" she screeched, storming into her brother's room without bothering to knock. A slight breeze of cool night air teased her curtain of beautiful black hair, and her eyes were drawn to the entrance to Malik's private balcony. The blonde haired man was leaning casually against the entryway, a small smile playing on his seductive lips. He sashayed into the room, standing in front of his sister and giving her a playfully elaborate bow, totally ignoring the almost tangible rage that wafted off her presence.

"Sister! How nice of you to join me this evening. How may I be of assistance to you?"

Malik's suave tone did nothing to soothe Isis's foul mood. If anything, it only made her angrier. She hauled Malik up by the front of his linen shirt, her expression clearly stating that this was no time for games.

"I am not here for myself—I am here by the will of the Pharaoh," she explained icily, throwing him backwards a couple steps. Malik looked appropriately confused. "He sent me here to ask you what became of the boy from the bazaar you arrested, and to order you to release him at once."

The room suddenly seemed to become very cold, the tension becoming so thick you could almost tangibly cut it with a knife. Malik looked at his sister for a moment, his expression entirely apathetic one minute to going completely serious the next, his lilac eyes glinting dangerously. Isis felt involuntary tremors going up and down her spine. That look reminded her entirely too much of her _other_ younger brother…

"Why should he be released? The boy was a criminal. It is my duty to keep the peace in Thebes," he said, just as frostily as Isis had addressed him.

It was obvious that beauty ran in the family, for both siblings were extremely attractive. But now both were a type of dangerous, malevolent beauty, the full extent of their malice directed at one another. If anybody else had been in that room with them, they would have trembled at the sight. Isis planted her hands on her ample hips, glaring down her nose at her slightly shorter brother.

"It is the will of the pharaoh," she snarked.

There was a moment of silence before Malik suddenly smirked nastily, making Isis recoil a few steps in shock.

_I know that smirk_, she thought in horror.

"Well, dear sister," he said, turning away from her to look out on the balcony, seemingly admiring the night sky, "it is a shame his sentence has already been carried out."

Isis felt her breath rush out of her. She didn't want to believe she had heard what she had just heard. Her brother used to be so sweet! She didn't want to believe it… The Pharaoh would be so disappointed…

"W-what sentence? Why didn't you take this up with the Pharaoh? All sentencing should be through his will and his alone!" she asked, grimacing at the slight tremble in her voice.

"Well, what else, Isis?" Malik asked. He hadn't turned around but Isis could practically _hear_ the triumphant smile in his voice. "Death, by beheading. The boy committed treason. That is capital punishment, you know; I'm simply speeding up the inevitable. Even if the Pharaoh refused, the court would have overruled him and decreed in my favor. The sentence would have been carried out before the pharaoh could make a formal appeal."

Isis wanted to scream something like "You lie!", but Malik beat her to the punch.

"I'm not lying. His body will be undergoing the embalming process tomorrow morning. You can check the mortuary then if you like."

The woman simply had nothing to say to that. She simply turned on her heel and walked out of the room, viciously slamming the door behind her. Once Isis's tapping, womanly footsteps faded away, Malik let out a large breath, walking out onto the balcony and leaning on the stone railing, looking out across the desert. A large body suddenly draped itself over his smaller one, the person's arms behind him winding around his thin waist and a chin coming to rest thoughtfully on his shoulder.

"You did well, brother."

Malik snorted. "I hate deceiving Isis like that. Deceiving the pharaoh. You are sure this will not have any detrimental effects to the plan or my status within the king's court?"

The person behind him sighed before nuzzling the smaller male's ear in something close to affection. "It was necessary," he said, blowing softly on the shell of Malik's ear, making the more petite twin shiver the slightest bit. "Pressured by the court, the Pharaoh wouldn't harm a hair on your head. Isis is too close to him; has too much influence over him. She would never let anything harm you—you were always her favorite, dear brother. Despite what you think of the Pharaoh, he is young. His resolve is weak."

"What if she goes to the mortuary tomorrow to check if the kid's really dead? Do you think she suspects something?"

Marik smirked and pressed a kiss to Malik's cheek. "First off, Isis won't go to the mortuary. Your act convinced her that the boy is dead, you can count on that. And if she does suspect anything, by the time she proves anything substantial, it'll be far too late."

Malik snorted derisively, suppressing a low moan as Marik started to nibble on his ear.

* * *

Okay, I originally posted this chapter with some confusion from a reader. She asked—"Shouldn't Malik be worried about his status within the court now that he's directly gone against the will of the Pharaoh? Shouldn't all sentencing go through the Pharaoh, first?" Well, I have an answer. Marik is very manipulative. This is all part of his scheme. Not everything is going to go as planned.

Please review. Please. :(


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